Involved
by Idan
Summary: Takes place during Green Thumb. "We are involved, but not in any way Fischer would understand." Just a short peek into Lisbon's thoughts. Chapter 2 with Jane's POV now added.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Unless there's something really cool in my stocking this year, I don't own even a tiny piece of The Mentalist and am making no money from this.

**Author's Note:** This is a little new and scary for me since I usually write in third person. But I guess my Muse wants to stretch her wings!

"Were you two ever...involved?"

I can't believe she just asked me that. Especially after visibly editing herself earlier when she explained suspecting me of being Jane's accomplice by saying, "You're his...friend." I wonder what she almost said instead. Girlfriend? Maybe, since Abbott uses words like that when he talks about us. It's his way of demeaning us, making us seem childish compared to the big, bad FBI.

Well, I've got news for the big, bad FBI: you're no match for Patrick Jane. None of us are ever going to see him again unless he decides we should. And he knows better than to write me this time, so I've lost him for good. Thanks for that, assholes.

"That's a strange question," I say, though it really isn't. Abbott and Fischer have no professional respect for me, so they assume Jane's interest in me must be sexual. They really don't know him at all. Or me, but I don't care about that. I don't have to. They're not paying my salary and they can't fire me. They can go to hell.

Of course, maybe Fischer is making assumptions based on her own past with Jane. He was so lonely on that island. Fischer could probably have seduced him if she'd been twice her age. He's always been susceptible to women with ulterior motives: Erica Flynn, Lorelei, and now Kim. The thought annoys me all over again, because seriously, how can he be so brilliant and so dense at the same time?

"Why would you ask me that?" I add, doing a little fishing of my own. I can't ask Jane what happened between them, and wouldn't even if he were here. But her assumptions are coming from someplace.

That got her flustered. I feel a vicious sense of satisfaction that I know I'm going to have to bring up in confession when I get home. These people lured Jane here under false pretenses and then kept him in isolation for three months, trying to break him. They wouldn't even deliver my letters. I'm damned if I'm going to help them find or "handle" him.

My poker face works perfectly well on people who aren't Jane. She thinks I'm sympathizing with her, and we go back to the briefing because she still thinks they'll find Jane, so I'm stuck here until they give up.

How did I make it work so long? I know, but I'll never tell her. I made it work because Jane trusted me. He did what he wanted 99% of the time, sure. But when it counted, when I let him know that I meant it, he backed down (except for taking me to his showdown with Red John, but I knew all along that was too much to ask). Because he trusted me, and because he valued our friendship. I used to worry it was purely because he needed the CBI to find Red John, but the second time I found a letter from the island I knew it had been more than that.

Writing once was a courtesy, to set my mind at rest. Writing me weekly, sometimes even more, meant that I did mean more to him than a useful mark. He could have written to Sam and Pete, after all, if he was lonely. But he chose me. And he chose me again when he decided to come back, though I have a few words to say to him about trying to re-commandeer my life. If I ever see him again, which seems unlikely.

I can't be entirely sorry he ran, though. You run, Jane. Go find a good life, not so lonely this time. Send me a postcard someday to let me know you're okay and that you haven't forgotten me. You deserve better than Abbott and Fischer trying to turn you into their own Boy Wonder act.

See, Agent Fischer, I am involved with Jane. He's never so much as kissed me, but there's more than one way to be involved. And I will help and protect him as much as I can, even if I never see him again. Because he's my friend, and we understand each other. And being understood is important. It takes a lot of effort to really know someone, after all.

And you will never know Patrick Jane like I do.

mmm

Despite my determination to remain impervious to Jane's antics, since he has decided to grace us with his presence again in, of course, the most absurd and theatrical way possible, I can't help but smile a little at the lengths he goes to so we can sit together on the plane. Last minute bookers can't be choosers, after all. He has to charm the good-looking guy next to me in the aisle seat to trade for his middle seat in the back of the plane, and it's a tough sell. I don't help him out because I'm still pissed at him and frankly I'd rather chat with a stranger at this point, but Jane uses that to his advantage.

Apparently there's a paragraph in the Guy Code about having to help another guy get out of the doghouse. My seat neighbor gives in just as the flight attendants are about to pounce and wrestle Jane into his own seat. They look like they expected to enjoy it, too.

Who knew Jane knew the Guy Code? It must be another one of the rule books he has memorized but chooses to ignore unless it suits him.

Yeah, Jane, so you're cute and charming. Tell me something I don't know. I'm still going to ignore you for as long as possible. The case file makes a nice prop, though I have it almost by heart by now.

It's only when he quits playing around and asks me seriously what's the matter that I give him a response. It's not the one he was expecting, either. If we're going to do this—and I haven't decided if we are—I have some terms of my own.

Jane doesn't get to run my life.

He doesn't like what I'm telling him, and if he wasn't stuck in a plane seat I'm sure he would have made an excuse to leave until I was "in a better mood," but he hears me out. He even apologizes. Okay, he gets a point for that. The man has apologized for about one-tenth of one percent of the crap he should have apologized to me for over the years. If he expects me to stick around, he's got to bring that number up. Way, way up.

I feel a little like I've kicked a puppy when I'm through, but I'm not taking it back. He IS difficult and exhausting, even when I'm not his boss. And I didn't work my ass off to end up as his sidekick. He needs to think about that for a minute and stop taking me for granted.

I missed him. And I like being with him again. But I'm not going to let him suck all the air out of my life anymore. It's not healthy for either of us. If he wants me to throw my life out the window and come work with him, he needs to accept my terms.

He seems to be getting it. I knew he would. He's a bright boy.

mmm

When Fischer calls to tell me Abbott is giving in to Jane's demands and that I'll be receiving an official job offer via email in the next 24 hours, I can hardly believe it. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

Jane's a lot more fun when I'm not the one paying for his stunts. And I'm dying to know how he pulled this one off. Hypnotism? Blackmail? Does Abbott wear a thong from Victoria's Secret or something?

Fischer says they haven't told Jane yet. I guess neither one of them wants to watch him gloat.

For once, I do.

mmm

I'm getting used to the way Jane smiles at me now, I think. Sure, it gives me a little thrill, but I no longer have the urge to check my pockets. It's taken some adjusting to get used to him being so happy to see me and not thinking it's part of some scheme.

I hope those days are over. And when he grins and says, "Let's see what kind of trouble we can make," that "we" warms my heart.

I'm not his boss. He doesn't need to give me deniability anymore, and I don't have to keep him from causing trouble everywhere he goes. This really could be fun.

When he makes a fuss over the socks, I know it's not just about the socks. I made it clear I'm calling the shots in my own life, and I've chosen to come back to him. Just like he chose to come back to me. That means something to both of us. Something big and deep and complicated.

We are involved, but not in any way Fischer would understand.

And together, we'll be unstoppable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I thought I was done, but Jane demanded to tell his side of the story. And I'm well aware that it's impossible to know what's going on in his head, so please forgive me for trying!

**Chapter 2**

Isolation isn't so bad. It's really a state of mind, after all. I have tea and books in English, so the necessities are covered. The only thing I miss is being able to write to Lisbon. I scribble little notes in my notebook, but I'm careful not to get too personal. I have no expectation of privacy here, after all.

I wonder if she's trying to get in touch with me? No, I know she must be. But she hasn't succeeded yet.

I wonder if she's angry at me for not taking the deal? I'm sure she thinks it's not so bad, possibly better than I deserve. But I've never been one to settle for less than I want, and I'm not going to submit to the FBI's tyranny. Not without some leverage. And not without Lisbon.

I look up when the door opens, because any diversion is welcome here. When Lisbon walks in the room, my pleasure at seeing her is almost immediately overwhelmed by concern. She's obviously not here because she wants to be. Has Abbott made it his mission to spread the misery?

I tipped my hand by insisting on working with Lisbon. I thought, mistakenly it seems, that the FBI would recognize a win-win when they saw it. I mean, they not only get me, but a talented and hardworking officer of the law with insights into my behavior. Why on earth would they turn that down? It's inexplicable.

Well, nothing is inexplicable, only unexplained. In this case, I'm betting the explanation has to do with stupidity. Or pride. Or both.

Unhappy though she is, she looks good. Annoyed, but that's to be expected if she's been sent to do the FBI's dirty work. She's not stressed, so I don't think they've threatened her.

If they have, they'll regret it.

I remark on her posture to let her know I realize this isn't a casual visit. To my delight, she straightens her spine and gives me a look. Things can't be that bad if she's playing with me.

I tease her a little about being incarcerated in her boring life, partly to let her know I'm okay and partly to make sure I'm right. I'd regret dragging her away if she were truly happy, but she's not and that's a relief. I call her out on her high-voiced lie and she smiles instead of rolling her eyes, which tells me how much she's missed me. I bet nobody else even notices when she tells her little white lies. I bet nobody in her current life understands her in the least.

Being understood truly is an underrated pleasure, and Lisbon is not immune. She tells herself she hates it when I get into her head, but really she's flattered. Well, perhaps flattered is a strong word. But she likes to know that I'm paying attention, and as much as she hates to talk about her feelings, she likes that I care enough to make the effort.

I bet nobody else in her life makes the effort.

I'm glad to see that she weathered the upheavals of the past two years intact, but I also see that my absence was keenly felt. Maybe even as keenly as I felt hers.

I'm going to fix this. There's no reason we should have to go on missing each other. Abbott's little power play has gone on long enough.

When she finally tells me why she's here, I begin choosing among the multitudes of plans I've hatched while sitting in this room. But when she orders me out of my chair, I recall how she used to kick my couch and bark orders at me, and I have to smile.

She smiles back involuntarily, and I obediently follow her out of the room.

I can take orders. But only from Lisbon.

I just need to show that to Abbott.

mmm

Lisbon's very interested in my interactions with Kim. It's part curiosity about our time on the island and part suspense. She isn't sure if she's more worried that I won't behave or that I will.

Don't you worry, Lisbon. Nobody makes me do anything I don't want to. That hasn't changed.

She's also just a tiny bit jealous, but she'll never admit it even to herself. She knows she has no reason to be, but she won't admit that either. She's never more determined than when she's trying not to know something.

Asking her for money and her handing it over immediately gives me a warm glow of nostalgia. She knows I don't need $20 for a hot dog, but she also knows I'm fresh out of detention and don't have a dime. She'd probably give me that whole roll of bills if I asked.

Ah, kind Lisbon. How I've missed you.

And how glad I am that you're not going to be the one in trouble for losing me.

mmm

I enjoyed my little solo excursion in New York, but I'm happy to be back with Lisbon. I'd be happier if she weren't giving me the cold shoulder, of course. Especially after all the work I did so we could sit together in these uncomfortable coach seats. Really, I thought I was going to have to hypnotize the guy. Lisbon could have made it easy if she'd explained that we've been apart a long time and she really wanted to catch up, especially if she'd given him one of her earnest looks, but no, she left me to my own devices.

I revel in the luxury of being able to look at her as I try to figure out what's upset her. Did something happen while I was gone?

Finally, I resort to just asking her what's the matter. And, wonder of wonders, she tells me.

I immediately wish she hadn't. I hope there's an air sick bag in that seat pocket. I may need it.

Could I have misread her? Does she really not want to work with me? I hadn't considered that, any more than I've considered what I'd do if cats developed opposable thumbs and took over the earth. Both are possible, but highly unlikely.

Just thinking about the possibility that she might walk away from me is worse than any punishment Abbott or Fischer could design. I need someone I trust. Lisbon is the only person who fits the bill.

No, she can't be serious. But she might be stubborn enough to stay put in Washington just to prove her point. I need to make her see that this isn't a contest. I'm not trying to manipulate her; I just assumed this was what we both wanted.

It is, dammit. She's just trying to take me down a peg because she's angry. We've barely spent any time together yet and haven't had a chance to really catch up, and she thought I was gone again. She probably had the same sick feeling in her stomach that I have at the thought of her leaving.

It would be years before Abbott gave me enough slack on my leash to go visit her. And the thought of years more without her is unbearable. I can't do it. I need her to look at me with those beautifully honest eyes and reflect the man she sees. The man I want to be. I don't know how to be him unless she shows it to me.

I know I'm difficult, and yes, exhausting too, I suppose. But she fought hard for me all those years, and Lisbon isn't a quitter. I don't care how long I've been out of her life; that hasn't changed.

But I do take her for granted, and that has to stop. That's the point she was really making. I just didn't think she could honestly believe I'd go back on the lam when she knows perfectly well how much I missed her. I told her in those letters. I also told her I was sorry I couldn't be there for her during what had to be a difficult time. She must really not think much of me if she could so easily believe I'd walk away from her again. It's not happening.

I know she hates not knowing what I'm up to, but she's still an officer of the law. I couldn't very well ask her to connive at my escape from federal custody, could I? That would expose her to criminal charges that could lose her that job she claims to be so fond of. And I don't want her to join me out of desperation. I want her to choose to. And I want the FBI to know they're getting a bargain in her, not handing out charity. I want them to appreciate her as I do.

Well, maybe not exactly as I do.

But I want her to feel good about taking the job when it's offered, and for that to happen, she needs to feel like she'll be valued for herself, not tolerated to propitiate me. That's partly why I praised her theory back in Austin, to point out how good she is. I'm aware I've cast a long shadow she hasn't fully escaped, but I'm going to see that she gets her turn in the spotlight.

mmm

Lisbon shines without any effort on my part. Nice to see she's put her free time to good use, reading up on criminal scams. That'll come in handy, like her obsessive reading of the case file even after she's memorized it. My little overachiever. I hope Kim is taking note and reports back to Abbott that Teresa Lisbon is definitely FBI material.

It is so Lisbon to give me a backhanded compliment after her complaints on the plane. Of course, she's also subtly pointing out to Kim that she's the outsider, since Cho, Lisbon, and myself go way, way back. Nicely done, but unnecessary, my dear.

And I am just a teensy bit concerned that Lisbon's willing to let someone else take charge of my safety during a collar. That's not like her. Unless...of course. She's giving me a chance to shine in front of Kim, to prove how useful I am so I have a better chance at gaining my freedom.

I could hug her.

mmm

On the trip back, the obstacle to my sitting beside Lisbon in the aisle seat is a nice older woman who is putty in my hands. I make sure to ask Lisbon if she's okay with the new arrangement before closing the deal.

"Of course. We haven't had a chance to catch up yet, have we?" Lisbon responds, all smiles. "Thank you so much, ma'am. I really appreciate it."

Mrs. Langston smiles as she goes up to my middle seat, obviously thinking she's assisting in a love affair. I settle into her place and smile at Lisbon.

I do love her, of course. She's the person in this world I care most about, possibly the only one I am capable of overcoming my innate selfishness for. Whether our relationship can evolve into something beyond friendship is something I'm interested in finding out, but not yet. First I want us back on familiar, stable ground. And I'll have to figure out how to lure Lisbon into taking that journey with me, despite how difficult and exhausting I can be, without her thinking I'm trying to direct her life again.

"So, tell me all about Cannon River, where the good citizens sleep soundly knowing their safety is in the best possible hands," I say.

She smiles at me and starts describing it, a little wistful note creeping into her voice.

I listen intently, keeping my grin under wraps. Lisbon is on board. I just have to finish my play with Abbott.

mmm

When Lisbon comes to see me again, I know it's all a done deal the moment she starts speaking. She's whispering with me like a co-conspirator, and I love it. This is how it should be: us against the world.

And she bought me socks! I'm touched. It's such a thoughtful, caring gesture. I wonder if she realizes what a familial thing it is to give socks. She's the only person besides Angela who has ever bought them for me as an adult.

But then, she's the only person besides Angela who's ever tried to take care of me without expecting something in return. I didn't realize how much I missed that until now.

When she tells me I'm free to leave detention, though not Austin, I take a moment to quickly grab my notebooks and the book I'm in the middle of (out of principle, because I already know how it's going to end). Lisbon generously offers to store them in her bag, so I take her up on it.

"You can keep the notebook," I tell her. "I was using it to write to you anyway."

She beams at me. "Good. I missed your letters these last three months. And I have a stack for you. I kept sending them, and they kept returning them."

"I can't wait to read them," I tell her truthfully. I want to hug her, but she'd hate that while we're under surveillance. I settle for gesturing for her to precede me out of the room.

Look out, evil doers everywhere. Lisbon and I are back on duty.

I can't wait to get started.


End file.
